


Let's go to the mall!

by Kyriadamorte



Series: The Epic Journey of Heaven's Most Adorable Angel and His Long-Suffering Brother [6]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen, Shopping, mentions of Alfie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-07
Updated: 2013-02-07
Packaged: 2017-11-28 12:00:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,689
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/674158
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kyriadamorte/pseuds/Kyriadamorte
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Apparently, most humans don't walk around in fast food uniforms.</p>
<p>Samandriel and Castiel try to avoid attracting attention...and fail, miserably.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Let's go to the mall!

So, apparently the clothing that Alfie had been wearing when Samandriel had entered the vessel was not actually acceptable for most human settings. 

At first Samandriel had thought it was the bloodstains, but Castiel had taken care of that very quickly after they had been accosted by well-meaning humans trying to convince Samandriel to go to the hospital. The odd stares and comments had continued. Normally Samandriel would have ignored it, but as both he and Castiel would most likely die if they called too much attention to themselves, he thinks it’s time to start trying a bit harder to blend in.

If only it weren’t so difficult. From afar, humans seem quite homogenous, but up-close they are bewilderingly different. He and Castiel spend their first hour or so at the mall simply observing humanity – Castiel with a sort of passive enjoyment, Samandriel (he is angel enough to admit) with an active sort of panic. 

There are a few styles he decides that he can eliminate from the get-go. Too much color seems to attract too much attention, but so does too little (and Samandriel has to admit that most of the all-black styles seem a little bit too demonic for his liking). He also decides that he should probably avoid shirts with writing on them. He needs eyes to glaze over him, to ignore him, not focus on his chest-al region trying to decipher a joke (as Samandriel himself had done with a few passers-by…with little success…human humor was occasionally bewildering).

He asks Castiel if it wouldn’t be easier simply to approximate the Winchesters’ clothing, but that suggestion is met with a petulant _“No.”_ When he opens his mouth to ask why, Castiel continues, “The Winchesters manage to attract attention wherever they go. We are attempting anonymity. We are _not_ going to imitate them.”

Samandriel believes that it is most likely that this is due to their personalities rather than their proclivity towards plaid. He also believes that Castiel might be slightly biased. His recent … disagreement with the eldest Winchester had left him in a bit of a … sulk. He doesn’t like using that word in connection with his brother, but he has to admit that it is the most accurate. Any mention of Dean has caused Castiel’s face to settle into a scowl and his wings to droop pathetically. Samandriel at one point had felt so guilty (a feeling he is becoming overly acquainted with) that he had suggested that he was well enough to survive on his own and perhaps Castiel should try to catch up with the Winchester brothers.

“It is not _you_ that he objects to,” Castiel had said, scowling, as he put up wards in the latest motel room. “Unless of course, you have tired of me as well and wish for me to leave?” 

That had pretty much ended that line of conversation. 

Using the knowledge he had acquired during that conversation, Samandriel decides it is wise not to point out that imitating the Winchesters in all things had essentially been their plan up until about a week ago. Instead, he suggests that they simply walk until he finds something he adequate (hoping that the movement will distract Castiel from what looks to be quite an epic pout).

They pass many stores selling things seem rather…unnecessary to Samandriel. For example, how many pairs of shoes do humans need? There are four shoe stores in a row, two of which selling exclusively sneakers. They also pass a store selling jeans that claims to be “True Religion.” He asks Castiel if humans actually worship the jeans and is met with a rather flat, “I honestly have no idea.” He has to admit that he does find the Lego store quite compelling – being able to make so many different things from all of the smaller parts seems like it could be endlessly fascinating. He is especially intrigued by what appear to be space ships and begins to wander in before Castiel grabs him by the shoulder and steers him out. “Perhaps some other time,” he says, in a tone of voice that suggests that they will be avoiding Lego stores at all costs.

They finally wander into a store that appears to sell fairly generic clothing. There is playing music in the background with rather repetitive lyrics. What is truly disturbing, however, is that the entrance appears to be guarded by colorfully painted statues with rather alarming faces. He cannot sense any demonic activity, but he examines them closely, all the same, just to make sure.

While Samandriel examines the smallest of the statues (and Castiel raises an eyebrow in his general direction), they are approached by a short human male who looks alarmingly cheerful. “Hi, can I help you guys with anything?”

“Yes,” replies Castiel. “We require clothing.”

The smile falters slightly and the young man (Tom, according to the name-tag) looks confused, before rallying and saying, “Well, you’ve definitely come to the right place! You have anything in mind or do you just want to hit up the basics?”

“Yes,” says Samandriel, relieved to have found someone to assist them in this task, “the last one. Basics. Basics are what we need.”

“Basics,” Samandriel realizes, are not actually that basic. Tom selects a whole mountain of pants and tops, which Samandriel cannot seem to refuse (“This is unnecessary,” Castiel mutters, “you only need one of each.” “Castiel, he’s being kind and _helpful._ ” “That’s debatable.”) He also seems to think that Samandriel needs a jacket or a coat of some sort. Samandriel would really like something similar to Castiel’s coat, but it appears he will have to settle for something else.

With a mountain of clothing divided between the three of them, Tom guides him to a fitting room. As he’s hanging everything up, he turns to Castiel and says, “We’ve got a sale on jeans – 30% off. I can think of two styles off the top of my head that would look _great_ on you. You want me to take a look?”

“That will be unnecessary,” says Castiel, not even bothering to look at Tom.

“But thanks for the offer!” adds Samandriel quickly, smiling at Tom before glaring at his brother. Really, there is no reason to be rude.

“No problem!” says Tom, unphased. “Give me a shout if you need anything.”

Closing the door behind him, Samandriel turns to the clothing with a bit of excitement and begins to try things on. 

A few outfits in and Samandriel has no idea what to choose. Maybe they should just take all of them? Castiel would probably object. He wonders vaguely what Alfie would have chosen. Realization hits him all at once. _Of course!_ Why hadn’t he thought of it before? He could just ask Alfie! He’d turned to his vessel quite often in the early days for direction, which Alfie had most graciously given. While with Crowley, he’d put Alfie to sleep and pushed him as far back into himself as he could…but he was out and feeling much better now, there was no reason why he shouldn’t ask for a little help being human from Alfie. Besides, he had to admit, he did rather enjoy his vessel’s company – bright and warm and laughing all the time, a soothing presence in this unfamiliar territory.

Smiling at his reflection, Samandriel reaches to brush up against Alfie’s presence and stir him into consciousness ... and finds nothing. Panicking, he reaches deeper and deeper into himself. Nothing. He’s alone, completely alone.

His vision is blurring at the edges and he’s finding it very hard to stand.

“Samandriel?” he hears, vaguely aware that it isn’t the first time his name has been called. There’s also a weird high-pitched keening…coming for him? He doesn’t know, really, and he can’t stop it. He can’t think of anything other than the teenage boy who had given himself over to the service of God, given himself over to _Samandriel._ And Samandriel had let him down. Where is he? Is he dead? Have the angels punished Alfie for Samandriel’s sins?

“I’m coming in,” he hears, before Castiel appears before him.

“Samandriel? Are you injured?” says his brother, head cocked to the side.

“Gone,” gasps Samandriel. “He’s gone!”

Castiel’s brows draw together in concern. “Who’s gone?” He crouches down so he is eye-to-eye with Samandriel. “Tell me,” he says more firmly.

“Alfie…my vessel…I thought…I tried…but he’s _gone._ Don’t know where…what if they punish? Because of _me!_ He didn’t do anything…but they don’t always care, they… all made up of nothing…”

Samandriel is dimly aware that he is not making any sense, but he can’t manage to string his thoughts together the way he wants to. 

“Ah. I see,” says Castiel.

“Is everything all right in there?” says Tom.

“Yes,” says Castiel, opening the door. “We would like to purchase these,” he adds, grabbing a pair of jeans and a shirt at random and shoving them in Tom’s general direction.

“Um, sure…I’ll…I’ll get those rung up right away,” says Tom, shooting a concerned look at Samandriel before scurrying off.

Castiel turns to Samandriel and says, in a low voice, “I am aware of how traumatic losing one’s vessel can be…but Samandriel, we cannot do this now. We are drawing far too much attention.”

“Of course,” Samandriel stutters, ashamed. He feels so weak. No wonder his various commanding officers had allowed on so few missions. They’d said he was too soft, too wet behind his wings. They were right. He was supposed to protect the Word and Prophet of God. He’d done neither. Instead, he’s falling apart in a dressing room. “I’m sorry…I’ll…I’ll pull myself together.”

Castiel steers him through paying for the clothing and then out of the store. He’s not even sure that they are out of sight when Castiel flies them elsewhere.

But not back to the motel. 

“Where are we going?” says Samandriel, confused.

“We’re going to find a liquor store,” says Castiel, not looking at Samandriel.

Samandriel is so shocked he doesn’t even question it.

**Author's Note:**

> I just wanted to thank everyone who's been reading and commenting and kudos-ing (?) on this series. It's gone way beyond any response I had expected for my self-indulgent little set of fics. 
> 
> Also, to the reader who posted a review on Tumblr, you seriously made my night when I found out! Thanks!
> 
> Next Up: Drunk Angels


End file.
